You somehow find yourself in a completely foreign environment. All around you are tall, jagged cliffs. In places a dark, tar-like substance oozes down, bubbling like boiling water when the substance is on a flat surface. You walk over to a thin stream of the substance and try to touch the stuff, because obviously in a strange place you should touch the first thing you see. Before you make any contact with it, you're suddenly yanked up by the back of your shirt. You turn your gaze to see a roughly 12 foot tall, snake woman thing with four arms and four.. tits. She glared at you with a curious gaze before speaking. "Two questions, what's a non-mage like you doin way up here and more importantly what in the three moons gave you the idea to try to touch tarm?"

Very loose visual reference-->

"You got a death wish or something? Don't touch tarm. Just don't." She bends down and puts her down, crossing the bottom pair of arms "You got a name little non-mage?"

"Yarmaw. One of three main blacksmiths for Xon division here in the cliffs"

"And how do you expect to "go" without mage help? You're in Fablehive, kid"

"I'll try to contact .. someone about this. In the meanwhile I suppose you can stay in my den. But just so we're clear, this is only to make sure you don't die while I get you a mage who can actually help"

"Great. Now, let's get you rested up in my den hmm?"

"Rest does not mean sleep" She gestured for her to follow along, slithering along the stone of the cliff ledge

Aside from the bizarre terrain, there was countless creatures of many sizes, colors, and what have you. What a strange place "So kid, you know how you ended up in the cliffs or even just Fablehive?"

"Mhm. While it's sure as hell going to be harder for you to get back"

Somewhere in the distance a few angel type creatures were holding a bug-like humanoid in the substance Yarmaw had called tarm. The bug thing shrieked in pure pain but was soon gone to the tarm with no other trace

"Hmm?" Yarmaw was either ignoring the scene or didn't notice

"My den"

She paused, turning back to look at her "Sonethin wrong?"

"Ah. Well I can't help with that"

"Almost" She stops at a ledge before sliding down

"Sorry little non-mage. I just didn't need some foreigner losing an arm or a life" She puts you down

She sighs and broadly gestured at the stuff she called tarm "This melts any organic bit and parts to oblivion. Holding a creature down in tarm til they die is common practice as severe punishment. At least in this part of the cliffs"

"Yarmaw. Yarmaw Stonescale"

She shrugged coldly "Good luck in Fablehive kid. Don't cone crying to me when you get yourself in trouble with some other mage"

"I guarantee you are at least two hundred years younger than me. Non-mages don't tend to live long yknow"

Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks you over again "Really? You sure don't smell fully matured"

"Yes, smell. My race has a keen sense of smell"

"Serpentwire"

"So enlighten me. How do you plan to survive in a world you know nothing about?" The look she gave was surprisingly smug. It's safe to say Yarmaw wasn't exactly the kindest soul

"I'll go try to find a mage who can actually help you. Cone with me, I'm not leaving you unattended"